The Secret Life of Madge Undersee
by Dnhost24
Summary: Madge, a character who everyone can't help but falling in love with. Yet, she has such a small role that makes such an enormous impact. Madge, the girl with the Mockingjay pin Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

The Secret Life of Madge Undersee

**Hello Everyone, yes this is a story I started thinking of. I have ideas for quite a few actually. Ill post the first chapter to this, and wait to see what people say before I continue in the series. Hope you like it.**

**-Dn**

Chapter 1

I wake up to the sound of screaming. Its distant enough not to startle me, but close enough for it's piercing sound to rattle through my bones. The haunting sound coming from a small dark room down the ornate hallway. My eyes slowly close to remember one last felling of peace before completely rousing myself up for the day. I look up into the light blue color curtains surrounding my four-poster bed. The soft cotton sheets and blanket snuggled closely to me, their warmth being my only protection. It puts me in a mild state of bliss. Then the screaming starts up again.

The soft happy moment I just experience ripped away by my mother. My life has never been normal, nor will it ever be normal. I've grown up my entire life in the fancy riches of the mayor's mansion. My father is the mayor of the poorest and most pathetic district in the entire country of Panem, District 12. Most people don't like the quiet streets of starving children and poor coal miners, but I like it. I'm happy with the usually friendly people in the town and even on occasion the Seam.

My mother was born and raised in the upper class of the merchants. She lived a happy carefree life in the town boutique with her mother, father, and twin sister Maysilee. I have heard that they did everything together. They spent every waking hour glued to each other's sides. I know of one time of when they were separated, the time my mother started growing into her fits, and became unfit to present herself in public. The Quell. That one-year is the cause of a chain reaction that brought many things to our district.

The 50th Hunger Games was the year that my eighteen year-old-aunt was reaped for the Hunger Games. She went in as one of our Districts four tributes. When I looked at those games, I believe that she would have been able to win on any other given year. If it wasn't for Haymitch Abernathy. He became her only ally, a source of survival and someone to give her a reason to come home. On occasion when I have talked to my mother about her sister, she has revealed that she was in love with Haymitch.

Haymitch. Our districts only living Victor and known nation wide as a drunk who can't save our Districts tributes for the last 23 years. God knows why he drinks. Maybe it's because he is tired of growing close to two children each year, only to watch them die. Maybe its because of his family and friends murdered viciously about a year after his Victory. Another reason is because of all of the things that happened in the arena, including Maysilee. In those brief conversations I have had with my ill mother, she has revealed that she believes that Haymitch fell in love with Maysille in the arena, and they shared an unspoken love.

The screaming continues in the Distance. I ignore it as my extended patience has remorse for my mother and all of the things that have happened to her in her short brutal life. I sit up and throw the cotton comforter off my body and stand up next to my bed. I walk over to the mirror sitting on my dresser in the corner of my room, right next to the window. I look at myself. People from the Seam think of me as a shallow merchant girl who doesn't care about the basic value of life, as they might be killed as tribute any year and I have no reason to fear. They have a reason, but I live up to none of these expectations. I am not shallow. I rarely think of myself, but for what I can do to help others in small ways. You see, I am a quiet shy girl who prefers to keep to herself. A quiet merchant girl. What an opposite.

I take a small brush I got at the market and run it through my hair. I try to get all of the knots and tangles out of my curly blonde hair. After a few strokes, my hair is soft and soothe. I look pretty with my blonde hair and blue eyes, typical merchant.

I leave my room and walk down the long hallway with oak floors and a bright red throw rug that rubs the length of the hall. Different doors are all closed on all sides. One containing the bathroom, another a guest room, and my parents room. As quietly as I can, I tip-toe past this room in an attempt not to alarm my mother and throw her into yet another fit. I almost manage to make it past the room when I sneeze. Screams. The piercing screams hit my ears like spears into a heart. And trust me, I know what that sounds like.

I let out an exasperated sigh, and slowly open the door to my parent's room. I peak inside and see my father at his most vulnerable stage. He sits next to my mother holding her hand. He is softly whispering in her ear trying to get her to calm down. His green eyes are creased with wrinkles and a single tear runs down his cheek. You can really tell how much he loves her in this moment. And that he doesn't care about how messed she is. He lives for the happy moments when she is herself and not a complete mess.

He notices me standing in the doorframe and smiles at me. He gently coos my mother to lie down and tucks her in. Then with a kiss on her forehead, he comes towards me. He puts his arms around my shoulders and guides me into the hallway. "Good morning Madge," He says in his kind and caring voice.

"Morning dad," I respond. "How's mom?" I ask. I know the answer, but I want to sound caring and considerate.

"She is doing fine. She is just nervous about the reaping's. It reminds her of her sister, and she is scared for you." My mother, in all of her fits, still has a caring side where she keeps all of her happy memories. I guess I am apart of those.

"Oh, I see. I'm kind od nervous as well." Truthfully, I am nervous, but just not for me. I'm scared for my friends who live in the Seam, Frerral, Jenning, Gale, and Katniss.

"You'll be fine," He says, "I have faith in you." And with that, he kisses me on the forehead, and walks down the hall to his study to take care of some last minute reaping details. I look one last time at my hysterical mother and head downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone. I have decided to write another chapter on this topic. I have also decided to go off the original Hunger Games plot line for Madge, given that it is a Secret Life. And without further ado, enjoy**

**-Dn**

Chapter 2

I reach the cold kitchen with the lights off. With the lights off and all of the dangerous appliances around me, It gives the room an eerie feel to it. Eeriness does not mean unforgivable, so I enter the room unfazed by my surroundings. I have always had an uncanny will to follow things that most people are afraid of. The forest, for instance. It seems everyone in the entire District is afraid of the woes that are held deep within its clutches, except for Katniss.

Katniss and Gale, Gale and Katniss. It seems that those two are inseparable. I know the story by how they came to be so close. It has never been truly told to anyone but by the way that they look and talk to each other you can tell the story behind them. The both lost their fathers in a mine explosion. That's common knowledge. They both went in the woods to support their families. They became close friends, hunting partners, and trading partners. They are not cousins, like everyone thinks. You just need to open your eyes and see what's blatantly right in front of you.

I put a piece of bread into the oven to warm it up for my parents. I choose not to indulge myself just because I have the means. If people around me are struggling, I choose to not make myself better than they are. I am no better than they are. After all, we are all district kids. Nothing more than animals sent for slaughter and entertainment for the Capitol. One of the topics I try to avoid more than anything. The Capitol and all of their greatness and power, would have the ability to bring peace and prosperity to the Districts and actually make them happy, eliminating a need for control, no reason for rebellion, no need for the Hunger Games.

I am not sure if there is any family across the entire nation who has not had to send a member to the Capitol out of its 73 years. I knew some tributes, some I didn't. But all I see is the same thing, walking corpses with no chance of survival. It isn't their fault of course, but the competition is just so great. The tributes from Districts 1,2 and 4 all training their kids to kill. Giving them the instincts and mind sets of a killer. It sickens me. No one should have to kill anyone in the world. No need for violence and blood to our out of the pumping hearts of innocent children.

And today, is the day we select our tributes. The last time 23 kids will see their parents, will ever have to worry about having their throat slit or getting a sword in the back.

I flush the painful memories of the games from my mind and try to live in the present and think optimistic. I walk back to the oven and take out the now warm loaf and start cutting it into reasonable portions. The thick fresh loaves from the Mellark family fill the room with the amazing smell of fresh bread. I take a slice of the bread and eat it, and then put the rest onto a plate and bring it up to my parent's room. I continue to walk down the ornate halls until I reach their door. I noticed the screaming has stopped for a few minutes now. I never know what she is screaming about. Is it her standing by the coalmines waiting for her parents who will never reemerge from the deaths, or her sister as she screams into the television to run as she gets skewered threw her neck during her games? I have never really asked her. They are her demons and are meant for her alone. I have seen the wrinkles and grey hair the stress has caused my father after all these years.

I knock on the door and slowly enter. I see my mother lying in bed with my father sitting on the side of the bed holding her hand. It's a picturesque scene, something that I shouldn't be ruining. But I am too late, and both of them look at me and give me a smile. "Good morning sweetheart," My mom says. Her voice sounds shrill and weak.

"Morning mom," I respond. I walk over and set the tray of warm bread on her lap. "You hungry?" I ask her. I try to connect with her, but it's just so difficult with her, condition.

"No, not right now, Madge, but thank you anyways." My father quickly intervenes. He picks up the tray and shuffles it back into my hands. His eyes say all he means. _Go get ready for the reaping. Stop worrying your mother, now! _I love my father, but he is sometimes a real pain.

"No honey its fine," mom says. "I actually am quite hungry. Just leave the tray on the table. Will you Madge?" I look at her. She is truly trying to help me in anyway she can.

"Sure mom," I say. I take the tray and put it on the far table opposite from her bed. I then quickly turn around and leave the room, closing the door behind me.

**I hope that gave enough insight to Madge's parents. Next chapter has some Katniss and Gale moments in it. Please review, as comments always make my day!**

**-Dn**


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